Silence.
For a long time, there is only that — a silence so deep it feels like pressure on the inside of my skull.
When I finally breathe, the sound of it startles me. It’s rough, broken, dragging through dust. Every inhale tastes like metal and old fire.
I open my eyes.
The world has changed color.
The tower — Kane’s cathedral of glass and steel — isn’t standing anymore, not the way it was. The ceiling above me tilts at an impossible angle, split open to the sky, a wound of sunlight and smoke. Beams of light pour through the cracks, turning dust into floating rivers.
For a moment, I don’t remember where I am. My head throbs in slow waves. My left ear rings so hard I can’t hear anything but that sound.
Then I remember the fight — Kane’s eyes, the pulse of the core, the sound of the
